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Since the day that they arrived on Earth, Phastos thought that humans were fascinating.
He wanted nothing more than to give them the best. He wanted to see them grow and advance. He wanted to give them the printing press, the steam engine, air transportation, and so, so much more. Isn’t that why they were here? To protect humans and help them advance? To see them grow?
He’s always held tightly onto that belief.
Even when humans decided to use technology to advance their warfare. Even then, he thought it was fine. The Eternals weren’t supposed to interfere, this was all part of Arishem’s plan.
When Ajak announced that they should part ways for now, Phastos decided to travel from city to city, country to country, continent to continent for the sake of enriching the lives of humans everywhere. He could finally introduce more advanced technology to help better educate humanity and more modern medicine so that people’s life expectancies were longer. And the steam engine! Oh, how he was so excited to finally introduce the steam engine to the Europeans after having the idea for so, so long! He loved seeing how his inventions would help humans progress and how better their lives became after innovation.
He wanted nothing but good for this planet and its people.
Even if there were wars, he still believed that there was good to humanity.
But things started changing just a little after the Great War. It was something unlike anything Earth had ever seen before. A war in which all of the major countries played a role in. It was violent, destructive and tragic.
Phastos couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when it was all over. Maybe now instead of focusing on war, humans can focus on other things. Like improving agricultural techniques for higher crop yields and developing cleaner, more efficient energy sources.
Yet just a short two decades later, a war even larger and more disgusting was occurring. A madman had decided to invade Poland, causing the other world forces to declare war. Chaos was running rampant on the battlefields and at home.
But this was yet again another war that he couldn’t intervene in, there were no Deviants.
Just people.
Just people killing each other.
People who were advancing technologically with each passing day. Weapons seemed to quickly advance thanks to brilliant minds like Howard Stark. Not to mention the medical advancements like antibiotics and vaccinations. Heck, even space travel wasn’t just a pipe dream for humans anymore.
He should’ve been happy.
But how can he be when knowledge and technology that he provided them turned into something utterly devastating? When all of those technological advancements lead to Hiroshima?
He was in the United States, visiting Ajak, when news broke.
As the crowds around him cheered at the war being turned in their favor, all Phastos could do was watch in horror.
That’s when it finally hit him what this was.
This wasn’t a war.
It was genocide.
This is genocide.
“Phastos,” Ajak’s hand stopped him from moving, “We can’t intervene.”
He brushed Ajak’s hand away, finding it so, so difficult to look her in the eye. “I need to go, I need to see it for myself.”
So they went.
They went.
And Phastos couldn’t help but weep at the sight of what once was Hiroshima.
Hundreds of thousands were gone. Their homes were reduced to ash. And for those who survived, there was nothing but hell.
How dare they do this, how dare they smother the lives of others!
But then what about him?
What about all the things that he’s done?
He gave them the knowledge to create weapons of destruction. He handed them the tools.
“I did this. If my technology hadn’t helped them advance…”
Phastos’ faith remained strong for centuries, for millennia. He had faith that their mission, that Arishem’s commands were right and for the good of these people, that this was the way things were.
As the tears streamed down his face, he sank lower and lower into the ground.
So why?
Why did it end up like this?
Why were humans so cruel?
Were they really here to save these people who destroyed each other and themselves?
“Druig was right, our mission was a mistake. These people…”
Ajak placed a hand on his shoulder, “Phastos.”
“They aren’t worth saving.”
He felt Ajak’s arms wrap around him as he wept.
After that… catastrophe, Phastos roamed the world. He tried keeping to himself, but even loneliness got to him from time to time. So he would stop by to see the others, but he never stayed long. It was difficult to face any of them.
Not Sersi or Sprite who didn’t understand what it meant for their powers to be used as weapons.
Not Gilgamesh or Thena who had their hands full controlling Thena’s Mahd Wy'ry.
Not Makkari who spent more time with books than humans.
Not Druig who was right about the true nature of his technology.
Not Kingo, Ikaris, or Ajak who still believed in Arishem.
Seeing them reminded Phastos of all that he’s done. So he remains alone, reminiscing on the lives that were lost, regretting the decisions that lead him to this point.
Yet despite the tragedies, slowly but surely, the rest of Earth continues to move on. Even though it was mere decades, people are forgetting the horrors of the past. The cycles of violence and bloodshed continued, over and over again. After all, while history doesn’t quite repeat, it certainly rhymes.
Even without his help, humans are still creating more and more weapons of destruction. They are still waging wars against each other, staking innocent lives for money, power, and greed. And he regrets every innovation that he provided for them that led to this point.
He swears not to get involved with humans again. He swears to never forget the tragedies. He swears not to use his powers.
Even if the world moves on, even if the world forgets, he won’t.
“Thanks for coming in, Ben!”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“I totally owe you one for covering!”
His friend’s bar was lively tonight. The music was loud, but not obnoxious, with plenty of drinks going around. Most people were mingling and dancing, looking to get drunk and have a good time tonight. All he had to do was make sure that everyone who wanted a drink was getting one.
“Hey Ben, isn’t that your type?” his friend pointed out.
He turned towards the entrance and immediately spotted who his friend was talking about.
Handsome was Ben’s first thought. Without much fuss, the man navigated towards the corner of the bar counter. He seemed… Different from the rest of the customers. It was rare to see someone with such a quiet demeanor in a noisy bar like this. Maybe he was waiting for someone?
Ben put on a customer smile to get his order, “Hi, what can I get you?”
“Whiskey on the rocks.”
Wow, his voice is smooth. He was not expecting that. “Do you have a preference for your whiskey?”
“Bruichladdich. Could you make it strong?”
Ben nodded, “It’ll be right out.”
If he had more time, maybe he would’ve worked up the nerve to talk to him, but there were too many people who wanted drinks and snacks. He’s sure that that guy was probably too busy mingling with other people to even notice him.
But the man doesn’t talk to anyone, except to order more drinks. He stays until closing and leaves after paying his bill.
Maybe he got stood up by his friends or a date? Or maybe he just came to be alone? This isn’t really the kind of place that someone comes to be alone. Ben shook his head, remembering that he was supposed to be helping his friend who was understaff for the night; why’s he even worrying so much about a stranger?
He’ll probably never see the guy again.
But Ben’s wrong.
The man comes again the next day.
And then the day after that.
Repeating the cycle each time. Never interacting with anyone else. Never tapping his foot to the music. He just sits there, drinking his whiskey, as though he’s contemplating something.
On the 4th day, the man comes in again, ordering a whiskey. Ben decides to do something because all of that alcohol can’t be good for someone. Instead of the drink, he bought a hot cup of tea for the man.
The man barely glances at it before saying, “This isn’t what I ordered.”
“I figured your liver might want a little break from all the drinking.”
The other man gave out a weak chuckle. Was it amusing to think about potential alcohol poisoning? “My liver is doing just fine, thanks. Can I get what I actually ordered?”
“... Sure.” It was worth a shot, right? Maybe he can just dilute the rest of the man’s drinks for the night. Most people don’t notice, maybe he won’t notice either.
“You can take that back,” he said, gesturing to the mug.
“It’s on the house.” Ben leaves before the man could utter another word.
His friend comes over to ask, “Ben, how’s it going with Mr. Handsome over there? Did you get his number yet?”
“It’s not like that.” Maybe it is, it’s hard to tell when he’s just concerned for a guy who’s been coming here for multiple days straight, getting a bunch of drinks, and just… looking like there’s nothing he can believe in anymore. Ben brings out the drink as asked, “Here you are.”
The man looks up at him this time. His eyes looked sad. “Thank you.”
The mug is empty. At least that’s something right?
Ben turns to step away, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to walk away. So he turned back to the man to ask, “Hey are you ok?”
“I’m fine. Don’t you have other stuff to be doing?”
Ben shrugs. “It’s a slow night.” And almost no one comes to a bar on a Monday night. “And I’m a little concerned about someone coming 3 days straight and drinking until we close.”
The other man’s eyes grew darker and sadder as he stared into his glass, “Let’s just say it’s the anniversary of something I’d rather forget.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He knows that it’s better for him to awkwardly inch away, to leave the man to his thoughts, but Ben remained, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I doubt you’d understand.”
“Try me.” He’s heard a lot. The most scandal of breakups, the hardships of going through loss and death, the struggles of losing your mind before fighting to regain yourself. Even though he didn’t understand every nuance and emotion that someone was feeling, that didn’t stop him from being there to offer a listening ear. “Even if I don’t understand exactly what you’re going through, it might be nice to have someone to listen to you for once. Especially if it’s been a while.”
“You’re persistent aren’t you?”
“I’ve been told.” He held out his hand and offered his name, “I’m Ben.”
The man didn’t take his hand, but he put down his glass with an audible ‘clank’.
“Phil.”